


Things you whispered in my ear

by Jmeelee



Series: Things You Said [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 23:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: The fight is six armed robbers to one spandex-clad superhero and one deranged vigilante.  Peter likes their odds.





	Things you whispered in my ear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AJenno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJenno/gifts).



> For my darling Ana, who prompted me with SpideyPool + Things you whispered in my ear

The fight is six armed robbers to one spandex-clad superhero and one deranged vigilante.  Peter likes their odds. 

 

“Is it Philip?”  The question is shouted over the screams of a man whose legs fall victim to Deadpool’s wildly swinging katanas.

 

“Nope.”  Peter yells, kicking another ski-masked man in the back as he webs to the top of the bank vault.  The thief face plants into the wall of safety deposit boxes, a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills flying from his hands and raining down over Deadpool like he’s a stripper on stage.  

 

There’s an audible crack as an arm breaks and a gun clatters on the concrete floor.  “Eric? Henry? Adam?”

 

“Not even close.”  

 

“Aw c'mon, Spidey.  I’ve been guessing for months.  And look!” Wade points to the prone bodies littering the floor.  “I haven’t killed a single one of these assholes. I deserve a treat.  Give me a clue.”

 

Peter drops from the ceiling, foot colliding solidly with a solar plexus.  “I’m named after my Uncle.”

 

“Ah, so probably an old-fashioned name.  Florian? Milo? Eugene?”

 

“Wait,”-Peter throws a perfectly timed punch, the nose under his knuckles shattering with a bloody crunch-“are you just naming every Disney prince?”

 

“I’ll have you know Flynn Rider was not a prince.  He was a dashingly handsome anti-hero.”

 

Peter laughs.  “Figures you’d relate to—“ but he doesn’t finish the statement, because a bullet rips a hole straight through his suit and skin.  

 

Deadpool moves like a man possessed, erasing the space separating them in seconds, snapping the shooter’s neck with his leather-clad hands.

 

“Dammit Wade, I said no killing,” he gasps.  Pain is a fire licking up his left side, sucking the oxygen out of his lungs.

 

“I’m borrowing this, baby boy.”  Wade pulls a web shooter off his wrist, then scoops Peter up bridal style and steps over the piles of money and documents scattered over the floor.  They make their way to the exit, and once outside the steel-reinforced walls Peter can hear the wail of sirens growing closer. 

 

Deadpool webs them safely through the city streets as Peter presses a palm over his wound, making the slow, jerky journey toward one of his many apartments. 

 

——

 

“Here, take these, Norbert.”  Wade shoves two white pills and a bottle of water into Peter’s bloody hand. 

 

“Wrong again.  And my metabolism burns through pain meds faster than Quicksilver.”  Peter pulls his mask up to his nose, then knocks them back with a swig of room-temperature water.  “I’ll probably need more midway through.”

 

Wade pulls off his gloves and threads a needle.  “I’ve got you covered, Orville. My medicine cabinet is packed fuller than the back of your spandex pants.”  He kneels down on the floor next to the sofa. Peter doesn’t refute the name or question where he got the medical grade suture material and drugs, he just pulls up the top of his suit and lies down on the couch, letting Wade sterilize and sew his wound. 

 

“You didn’t have to kill that guy,” Peter admonishes, tongue loose from the second dose of painkillers he swallowed halfway through the procedure. 

 

“He shot you, Leonard,” Wade fires back.

 

Peter waves his hand around, accidentally hitting Wade in the head.  Everything is warm and floaty. He feels fantastic, despite the strange tugging sensation on his abdomen every few seconds. “Tis but a scratch.” 

 

Wade ties off the suture thread and tapes a thick layer of gauze over his handy work.  When he’s done, he leans back on his heels, clenching bloodstained fists against his thighs.  “I know you think it’s your job to protect everyone in this city, Edwin, even the scumbags. I get that.  I even understand why you won’t tell me your name. But what you need to understand is I think it’s my job to protect  _ you _ .  And I’d protect the people you care about, too.  When it comes to you, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.” 

 

And the thing is, Peter  _ knows _ .  It’s something he hates about Deadpool, and something he loves.  Peter reaches spaghetti arms into the air, making grabby hands. “Quit calling me old-man names and come here,” he whines.  

 

Wade chuckles.  “You’re high as a fucking kite, Wilber.  You want to hug it out?”

 

Peter grabs hold of his Spiderman mask at the top of his head, yanking it off.  It’s one part opioids, two parts finally following his heart; the perfect recipe to nourish this crazy thing rising between them.  Deadpool’s laughter cuts off immediately. Peter drops his mask to the stained carpet, and raises his arms again. He’d give anything to see Wade’s face right now, when the light of recognition sparks in his eyes.  Wade could easily rebuff him now that he knows who’s been under the mask all this time. 

 

But he doesn’t.

 

Wade leans down, careful not to jostle Peter’s side, and slides his arms between Peter’s slim body and the couch cushions. He takes a moment to savor Deadpool’s warmth, slide his hands up and down the broad expanse of his leather-clad back, then he smoothly unfastens Wade’s mask, tugging it up.  

 

He lets his lips graze Deadpool’s scarred skin as he whispers in his ear.  “Call me Peter.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Jamie.](http://jmeelee.tumblr.com/) Thank you for reading!


End file.
